She pulls the letter out of her purse and looks at me. I stare at her in disbelief. She wants me to do what? She repeats, "I want you to give this to him." She gives me those eyes. You know what I'm talking about? The googly, shiny, puppy eyes. I can't say no. But I can't say yes. I just sit there, unmoving, staring at her. She slides the envelope across the table towards me and says, "I just can't bear to do it myself, Jack, I'd feel... too silly." With that, she leaves a few dollars on the table, gets up, and walks to the cash register. She walks away with such grace, but her body extenuates her young, awkward beauty. She might be in her twenties, but she has the spunk of a teen. I remember those days..
The door to The Easy chimes as she steps out. The rain has slowed to a drizzle by now. But the clouds are still ominously dark. The setting sun's beams are shining brilliantly, fighting to be seen through the clouds. But it is still dark on the streets.
I look at the envelope on the table. In black ink was "Frank" written in script. It stands out again the pink paper. I pick it up and sniff it. It smells good.. like
(the smell of a bomb squad's blood on his hands)
someone's perfume. I guess that's what Marcy wears. I flip the letter over; It's sealed all the way down on the other side. It looks slightly worn, like it's been her purse for some time. She wants me to give this to him? The strangest man in the diner? I guess... he's friendly enough. Is it a letter where she is to spill her feelings out onto Frank's plate? Where she is ripping her heart out and offering it to him? Maybe it's just a note asking him out. I guess I wouldn't know. I scoff and put it in my apron. Maybe some other time, Marcy. I get up and walk back behind the counter.
But the letter feels heavy against my leg. She gave me a responsibility... I can't let her down... I guess. Maybe I -will- give it to him. How would he react? What if Frank rejects her? Would I have to tell her? This is turning out to be a little more complicated than I thought. Perhaps I could pass it to him during dinner.
Yeah.
He's sitting there in his corner, eating his chop steak. So I walk up to him with the letter, determined. I make sure the determination shows in my walk. But I'm trying to make it seem as if I'm going to offer him a refill of coffee. Tina would later gossip, "He was strutting towards the table. He seemed determined, ya'see? I knew it from his walk.. and the glint in his eye."
As I walk up to him, I say, "Hey, Mr. Frank, this came in for you." I reach into my apron and pull out the letter. But before I can hand it to him, I feel a thud and a burning sensation. It's in my chest. I look down. There's a steak knife in my chest. Mr. Frank's hand is on the handle of it. The cold metal is stuck down the the hilt and a crimson liquid is trickling out the sides onto Mr. Frank's hands. Is that my blood? I look into his cold, blue eyes.
well.. why did you do that?
I can feel the serrated edges slicing through my beating heart. Well, no, it's not beating anymore. I don't think I'm standing anymore, actually. Well that's interesting... the ground is cold... it's moist. Why is it moist? Is it from my blood? Hm.. Everything is.. a little.. blurry now. I think it would be a good time for a nap.
Well... I hope it doesn't happen like that. I sigh and look at the letter. How.. pink. Dammit, Marcy, why did you have to put me up to this?
Ding.
What is that? Ah someone's trying to get my attention. It's a little service bell we have next to the register. Usually for people who want to pay or want a dessert from the refrigerated display case to the left of the cash register. The bell isn't usually used if someone's alreayd behind the counter. Or as Chris once told me "You'll only hear this if you're incompetent.
Ding.
I turn around to take a look at who is doing the dinging. But I just see the front of the diner; there's no one there. My brain reels. Hah, of course. I lean forward over the counter a little and look down. There's a small child there, too short for the bar. "What's up, little man? Want some dessert?" His fingers grasp on to the side of the counter as he climbs onto the barstool. He's cute. "How old are you?"
He holds up seven fingers, "I'm..." He pauses and looks at his hands, then holds up two more. "I'm nine."
"Well, kiddo, are you here by yourself?"
"Nuh uh, my parents are over there." He points to a couple sitting near the window. They seem to be absorbed in talk. In fact, I don't even know if they knew their kid left to get some cake. Parents these days.
"So how was school today? It was raining pretty hard." I look at the time, it's 5PM. But the the town was under heavy rain for a few hours now. "Was there any flooding down there?"
"Yeah... it was raining reeeeal hard. And the water was coming up in the street where the cars come to pick us up. The buses were real tall though, so we didn't have no problems with the rain. My mommy and daddy thought it would still be ok to drive through the rain to get here though... But they were talking and I was getting bored and they thought I was fidgeting too much so they told me to get some dessert."
way to get rid of your kid. but i guess i can't blame you.. huh? he sure is a talker..
"Alright, kiddo. Do you know what you want?"
"That one!" He points at the red velvet cake.
"Good choice.." I open up the back of the display case and put a slice of cake on a plate.
When I come back to give the cake to him, he's got Mr. Frank's letter in his hands. "Who's this for?" He inquires, looking at me square in the eye. His eyes are deep blue.
"Well take a look at who it's addressed to. See?" I point at the name in script, "It's for Mr. Frank. Do you know him? He comes here a lot. He always sits in that corner over there." I point to the back where Frank sits.
His eyes grew wide, "Is this from that crazy lady?" He drops the letter back on the table, frightened.
"Whoa, whoa, wait, little man, what are you talking about?" He seems to be in petrified, grasping the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.
"Mr. Frank is a bad man." He looks to the corner where Mr. Frank sits, to check he's not there. "Wa-well one of my friends told me that there was this lady here and she was crazy, like.. like under Mr. Frank's spell. He's controlling her mind! He's a monster you know. Did you know that? But he's worst at night. And even worse on full moon nights. You better watch out. He's a monster, and she's just crazy."
"Wait.. no I don't understand, how do you know this?"
"From what I hear he was sitting outside there," he points at the benches outside the door of the Easy, "and he was smoking his cigarette and that was when Miss Marcy was out there... and she was sad, very sad and --and that was when he took advantage of her. he put his spell on her and now she's his pet, yes sir. My friend told me it was like he took her soul! he jus' looked her in the eye and he sucked it outta her, and now he keeps her soul in a jar somewhere in his house with the rest of his victims' souls, all she does now is --is follow mr. frank around and want him and want him but he won't ever give her his love and she will be sad for as long as she lives and she won't never find love again. but mr. frank, he's a deadly monster, you know. he hadn't only taken her soul, nuh uh. he owns her now."
He sits up in his chair and leans toward me, he is eager to share his boundless information, "my friends and me always dare each other to go up to his house and look into the window. my parents always tell me," He puts his hand on his hip and makes his voice as deep as it can go, "'Don't go bother Mr. Frank.' and they tell me that because you they know that it's dangerous and mr. frank is a monster...
everyone, ask anyone, they all always hear screams from in there, the grown ups don't believe us though.. sometimes they're not even human, they sound like a dog or a wolf or something. but then sometimes it sounds like there's a woman screaming and it's a scream of terror, mister. we always try to look inside and see what's going on and there was this one time i wasn't scared, nuh uh. my friends were scaredy cats though and they stayed behind the fence, but i crawled under it and i was real low and i was trying to be real quiet. and i got to see inside. but.." he hesitates for a moment, "it was really hard looking in there, the windows were real grimy. but there were heads in there. heads hanging on the wall like they're his prizes!"
I stand in front of this kid, captivated by his story. It's really quite interesting, but I think I've heard enough. "Listen kid.. maybe you should take your cake back to your table with your parents alright?"
He stop and relaxes. As he gets off the bar stool, he tells me, "You better watch out, Mr. Jack."
...How interesting. That kid knows where Mr. Frank lives. And.. he's got heads in his house, apparently. I'd have to see that for myself. Hah. What an interesting story though.. Poor Marcy.. caught in Mr. Frank's "spell." Perhaps it's a bit more like love.
That night, I follow Mr. Frank home, sneaking out of my shift. He doesn't live to far away I think. He just walks home ever time he comes to the Easy since it's so close. So it's easy to follow him. The clouds cast an ominous, eerie shadow. The shadows seem too exaggerated, too surreal. I look up at the white orb floating in the sky. Good thing it's a full moon, too; still, I can barely see anything. The fog is creeping in after the rain. Mr. Frank's silhouette pierces through the fog though, making him an easy target to follow. I follow about a block down, making sure he doesn't hear my footsteps. Or my heart beating.
He steps off the street and goes towards a house. And, hell, it's a house right out of a ghost story. The yard slopes up; the house stands on a hill. The yard is overgrown with weeds and God knows what else. Mr. Frank opens his door; it makes a loud creaking sound. I'm still standing on the sidewalk, spying on him. When I see a light turn on on the second story, I hop the fence and press my face against his window to look inside, to see if there are really heads in there. I try to peer in, but I hear some footsteps behind me. A gruff voice, "You shouldn't've come here kid."
I woke up in the darkness. No.. there is just a bag over my head. I can't seem to move. Am I strapped to a chair? "Where am I?"
"You're in my basement. But this will be the last place you see. Because, you see, you're going to die down here. After I take your soul. Have you witnessed such a thing? It is one of the most painful things in the world; knowing that you won't live the same way again is part of it. After that, your life will be virtually meaningless. You won't have a purpose. Heh." He lifts the bag off of my head, and his cold, blue eyes are in front of me. "You shouldn't have been so curious. Can you get them a refill of coffee?"
"What?" I ask Mr. Frank through the bag.
He repeats, "Can you them a refill of coffee?" Hey I'm talking to you."
Gabe taps me on the shoulder, "How's it going?" I'm interrupted from my day-dreaming.
"Hey Gabe. Nothing much.. I was just talking to that kid over there about Mr. Frank."
"Oh ok. You just looked a little dazed, that's all. Hm.. How's your first day going so far, Jack?" He takes a mug off a hook and pours himself a cup of coffee. His mustache somehow stays dry when he takes a sip of coffee. "Not going looney from the lack of sleep are ya?"
I laugh, "Hah, not too bad.. Just talking to some of the patrons, getting to know them."
"Hey! Full moon tonight! Did you know that? I don't know if you've been able to see it from in here. But it looks great out there. Tonight it should be as bright as it should ever be."
Today's actually what the Chinese call the Mid-Autumn Festival. It was to celebrate the end of the summer harvest season. And they eat a lot of food. I had some Chinese neighbors once. They told me about it. I always remembered it since they fed me so much food. Hah! Gotta lay off some of that red meat, I think. Gotta keep the missus happy."
"Heh. Yeah Gabe. I'll talk to you later.. Seems more people are coming in now, huh? I guess you were right. The rain stopped."
I sigh.
Looks like this letter thing might be more complicated than I thought.
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